


Everything

by cowboykylux



Series: Medieval Knight Kylo AU [4]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Historical Accuracy, Kings & Queens, Knight Kylo Ren, Kylo Ren in Love, Middle Ages, Naked Female Clothed Male, Pregnancy, Protective Kylo Ren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 17:49:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21324208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykylux/pseuds/cowboykylux
Summary: “You are so radiant, in all ways. Heaven herself has made you, she must have.” Kylo is convinced, absolutely convinced that you were made to make this world a better place, make him a better person.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Series: Medieval Knight Kylo AU [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1537318
Comments: 12
Kudos: 181





	Everything

He watches you from the doorway, late one afternoon.

The birds are chirping quite heavily, a symphony of sounds outside the castle walls. The monks in the monastery chant their hymns as they wander their halls, the tenor of their voices drifting through the wind, diluted to a warm wash of music in the distance.

You hum along, though you care little for the meaning of the words, more enraptured with the melody, the tune, as you fold your kirtles which have come back fresh and clean from the wash. Kylo’s eyes are fond as he watches you, he is relaxed, leaning against the door frame, quiet so as to not disturb you.

You are in nothing but a white smock today, your long hair let down. It is Monday, and you are bound to no obligations, nowhere to be, no one to see. In fact, Kylo isn’t so sure you didn’t just wake up, his own Kingly duties taking him from your enormous canopy bed far too early.

You are somehow even more beautiful like this, rumpled and warm from sleep. Outlined by the light you are, backlit from the window in front of which you stand, folding and refolding your dresses just so, careful to not crease the wool and silks. Your white smock is practically see through, and he cannot hold himself back any longer.

“A Queen does not do her own laundry.” He says, but you are unsurprised to hear him, to see him.

“Oh? And pray tell why not?” You ask as you look over your shoulder, features so dazzling that he nearly forgets how to speak.

He removes himself from the doorway, walks into the royal bedchambers and steps up behind you, slides his arms around your middle.

“Because her King will do it for her.” He says easily, as he takes the kirtle from your hands and kisses your neck, many small kisses pressed and peppered along the exposed skin of your throat.

You grin with all of your pretty teeth as his expert hands put this dress in the pile, as they do so quickly so that they may slide over your stomach. He is not wearing his gloves now, not wearing any of his armor. Instead he is simply in his black trousers and surcoat, fabric breathable and light.

“You’re starting to show.” He says softly, and you beam up at him, your mouth stretched into a smile as you demand his lips.

“I know! Our little prince or princess is growing big and strong, just like their father.” You wind your arms around his neck, press your foreheads together.

Kylo revels in this, this closeness. He takes a deep anxious breath, one that releases in a shaky manner, as his hands bunch up your smock, at the waist, wanting to see you.

“May I?” He asks, heart thrumming when you give him permission to lift the gauzy fabric over your head, pull your arms through it.

He scarcely cannot believe you are real, from the way the line of your shoulders slopes, to the heavy hang of your breasts. But what he cannot believe most of all, is the way your abdomen is beginning to jut out, proof of his heir before his very eyes.

He sinks to the floor so he might be level with the bump, and as his hands caress your warm hips, he rests his ear against your flesh, hoping to ear or feel the baby. It has been twenty weeks, and watching your body shift and change has been both a terrifying and an incredible journey. The midwives say that the heir apparent should be kicking soon, and Kylo prays that he will be there to witness it when it happens.

For the moment however, he cannot hear anything but the birds or the monks, so instead he places a single kiss to your stomach, to your hips, hands smoothing around to playfully squeeze at your ass.

“Come, lie with me.” You chuckle, and he rises from the floor, lets you lead him to the bed as you lay down atop it. He climbs up after you, settles himself next to you on his side, head propped up by his hand as his elbow digs into one of the many soft pillows he has ordered to be made for you. “I see stirrings in your mind, what swims behind those eyes of yours?”

He sighs, both glad that you know him so well and anxious, because the thoughts which have been plaguing him offer nothing but worry.

“When I came to challenge my claim to the throne, never did I imagine to be graced by such a blessing as your beauty.” He says, not able to look you in the eye as he traces patterns on the open palm of your hand where it rests near your face, “I dread the day you part from me.”

“I do not jest when I ask this, what makes you believe such a thing?” You frown, stretch your neck to kiss him softly, “I wish to understand the root of your doubt of my love. Have I not been faithful in every way known to man?”

The pain in your eyes kills him, for this is not what he intended, not what he meant at all. That you should feel you have committed an error has acid burning in the back of his throat.

He shakes his head and kisses you, trying to find the words. You have none of it, and you push him down so he is laying flat on his back, so that your naked body may straddle his hips, your hands guiding his own to your chest so that he may calm himself by touching you the way he always wants to.

“It is not born from anything you have done, please, believe me. The doubt is mine own doing.” He says, mesmerized by your beauty, nearly angry with himself for being so inadequate in comparison. “I am undeserving of you, don’t you see? The moment you realize this is the moment my heart shall tear into two, for when you leave, you will take it with you.”

“I cannot think of anyone more deserving than you.” You frown, and Kylo sighs.

“(Y/N) – ”

“No Kylo, I speak true.” You interrupt him, “Look at this, look at us. I would not have pursued you so, would not have let you take me, keep me, marry me, if I did not believe that you are the most perfectly imperfect man I had ever met.”

Kylo looks at you, and you look back at him, trace your finger down the scar which splits his face. You kiss your finger and trace it once more, sealing the already healed wound with your love in a way that you sometimes did, whenever Kylo was feeling self-conscious.

“I have no delusions about your character, about your temper, about your manner. I love them all, wholeheartedly. I love you, wholeheartedly.” You reassure him, tuck his hair behind those big ears of his which you so adored.

“You must forgive me, it is difficult to rationalize sometimes, what mine mind projects so loudly.” Kylo whispers, and you only nod solemnly. He is forever thankful for your understanding, even if he does not know where it comes from, or why you choose to give it to him.

“Allow me to drown out those words.” You say, and he finds that things are altogether too serious for the moment, so he does his best to keep a straight face when he nods up at you.

“You _are_ quite loud.” He replies, playful, teasingly.

And it is successful, for you are rolling your eyes and biting away a smirk from your lips, a light blush across your cheeks. Kylo sits up then, cannot bare to be away from you even though you are astride his hips, you are still too far away.

“Oh heavens, my lips are so cold.” You hum when he sits upright, when he props his back up with the many goose feather pillows that adorn your shared bed. “If only there were a King worthy enough to bestow a proper smooch upon them.”

Kylo kisses you headily, hands splayed across your body, mapping it out. It is so hot under his hands, like you had been laying in the sun all day, soaking up the sunbeams there, the very ones which he has poured into the ring that graces your finger.

Your noses rub and nudge one another as you exchange thick slides of your tongues, your hands in his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. You moan softly into his embrace, your nipples brushing against the soft fabric of his surcoat, and he is hard in his trousers with you being so intoxicatingly lovely.

His hand roams over your stomach once more.

“I worry, so much about you.” Kylo whispers, figuring that since it is sharing hour, he might as well get everything off of his chest, “About our baby.”

“It will be fine, you must believe that it will be fine.” You shake those anxieties away, give them no mind at all, for if you dwell on such things, you fear they will come true. “We have the best midwives in the whole of Alderaan.”

“If you die – ” Kylo begins, for he cannot stop thinking about it, cannot stop thinking about the way his grandmother, Queen Amidala perished in such a fashion, cannot stop thinking about the way so many women perish from giving birth.

“I won’t.” You say, so it so firmly as if you are telling God herself, telling the universe that this is not something to even toy with. “The baby has been easy so far. I know it is still early, but I have not been sick once. This will be a calm endeavor, I am sure of it, and then Alderaan will have her first true crown prince in many years.”

Kylo is in awe of your strength, of your confidence. He wishes he could wield such a powerful weapon himself, but you have enough for the both of them, you always have.

“You are so radiant, in all ways. Heaven herself has made you, she must have.” Kylo is convinced, absolutely convinced that you were made to make this world a better place, make him a better person.

“If the stars have made me, then the sun has made you, and this child will be the Earth in all its glory.” You smile, glad he has given up on that train of thought for the moment as you kiss him, growing more and more playful as your hand drifts to the ties of his trousers, “And our next one shall be the moon, and the next shall be the sea, and the next shall be the sky…”

“You wish to have so many?” Kylo chuckles against your throat where he laves his tongue across your pulse.

“I wish to have as many as this body can handle, the castle is so devoid of royal children it pains me. Can you not just imagine hearing their bright laughter as they prance through the grounds? Small boys and girls sword fighting with sticks, smelling the flowers in the fields.” You ask, and Kylo hums thoughtfully.

“I cannot. I never dared to.” He replies truthfully, and your smile grows sad. “Never dared to dream I might one day have so much to be thankful for. I have never had anything in all my life, and to suddenly have so much is overwhelming in the least.”

“You have suffered through so much, so much that it pains me. But you need not suffer any longer, for as long as I am here I will tell you how deserving you are of all the love this kingdom has to give you – how much I have to give you.” You reassure him, and he nods, satisfied for now.

“Only if you allow me to give you everything in return.” Kylo replies, because must always swear fealty to you, must always let you know this.

“Oh my darling,” You say, as the birds chirp outside and the monks chant and the baby kicks against Kylo’s hands for the very first time, as you both gasp at one another in elation, as you kiss him kiss him kiss him, you say, “You already have.”


End file.
